


Blood in Water

by infinitewritings



Category: Robin Hood (2018), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitewritings/pseuds/infinitewritings
Summary: If there is one thing the Sheriff of Nottingham hates more than the townsfolk is people stealing from him. He would tear the town apart finding the thief and that's the least he would do if he ever caught the thief.All Robin wanted was the end the war, make his town happy, and live peacefully with the love of his life but getting caught was never on his plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rob of Loxley deserves a better reveal and this may not be better exactly, but at least it'll be dramatic.

         Robin’s never had to be calculated before—not before Syria. He never counted his steps, he never monitored his breaths and he never depended his life on four arrows. John had told him to save the arrows, to reuse them, but today Robin managed to throw every single suggestion out the window. His fingers ached as he gripped the bow tighter. He had to be extra prepared. 

         This wasn’t about the money. 

         He was doing something bigger, something much more important. But he was already failing. Robin wiped away the excess blood off his cheek from the cut he never realized was there and sucked in a deep breath running to the next nearest pillar. 

         _“What would John do?”_  John had a way of creeping up on people. He was always two steps ahead of his opponent and Robin couldn’t even create the map of the castle in his head. He took a turn two minutes ago, he climbed a staircase—but then jumped down through floorboards. He didn’t know if he was closer to John or dragged himself further away. 

         A yell.

         Suddenly it was quiet. There were no footsteps walking closer to him. There were no voices whispering plans behind him. It was numb. It was hot. It was dry. It was Syria. 

         Robin’s eyes darted around him, they blinked away the sand blowing in his eyes. He was standing under a barely upright building; the pillar was half there. His hands felt empty with no bow to hold and his fingers went up to his arrows but there was nothing there. Fresh blood trickled down his cheek, his arm and his ears rang. His ears rang with screams and yells and arguments and voices. 

         Robin dragged his feet closer to the sound to ask someone to wake him up. Syria was done for him, they couldn’t send him back. As Robin neared the voices, his shoulders shoved past the gathered individuals. Robin had seen this before. He knew what they were doing, and he needed to stop them. 

         “Bring him to me! Let’s see how much he’s got in him.”     

         “If you shut up, I’ll let you do it faster.” The voice was husky, it was familiar. _Wait._

         “At least he won’t beg like the other one.” _No!_ Robin’s face was only in his head, his dry lips stuck together. 

         As Robin cleared the crowd he was presented with John. John shacked, again. John being dragged to the stone, again. John spitting on their faces, again. 

         “...no…wait…No!” Robin jumped towards John, but his arms dragged him back as the other crusaders held onto him. 

         Gisborne ordered John’s head be rested on the stone as he cleared his sword. Robin’s thrashing, yelling got louder as John’s knees hit the ground and his head slammed on the bloody, dark stone. 

         “Robin, stay away!” John’s eyes stayed locked at Robin, who shoved at the nearest crusader, trying to get closer to John.

         “LET HIM GO!” 

         “Do you want to be next?!” Gisborne yelled back. 

         “He’s done nothing! It was all me!”

         “Shut up, Robin!” 

         “I was the Hood, he didn’t do anything, you can’t do this!” Gisborne locked eyes at Robin and whispered loud enough only for him to hear, “do you think I need a reason for this?”

         Gisborne turned away from Robin’s screams and inched closer to John, tightening his grip on the knife, raising it enough for strength and bringing it down with excelled speed towards John restrained body. 

 

         Robin jolted up from his desk. His hands shaking, his mouth dry. His chest out of breath, his heart racing and his body in sweats. As the broken window shutters slammed against the wind, Robin’s mind raced back to the present as the sun burned through the shutters and he paced himself to his surroundings.

He was alone.

         It was his home. It was England. John was caught by the sheriff and he was busy dreaming.

         His restless right hand stayed clasped in his left as he stood up from his seat. With his head spinning, everything felt so extremely lonely. 

         _You’ve spent enough time alone, Rob of Loxley._

         Robin smiled at the voice in his head. For once it wasn’t his, for once he knows that he isn’t alone—even without John. His shaking hand coming to a rest he ran his fingers through his hair, finally letting out a breath he’s been holding in. 

         With his thoughts finally clear, an echoing knock filled the house. 

         The boy drummed his fingers on what was left of the Loxley Manor door and kept his head facing the door instead of focusing on the leaves rustling near the manor. He was nervous, he had cleared his throat more times than necessary when he made his way across town back to Robin. He couldn’t recall how he got caught up in delivering Robin’s letters, there was no reason to deliver them as the correspondence was in the same town with the same person. But Robin didn’t use his seal, didn’t mark his letters, and the boy always wondered someone seeing him. Either way, Robin paid good.

         At least he usually does. 

         As the splinters of wood that made up the door opened, the boy formed a fist in his pocket. 

         “How was it?” Robin’s voice was still short. His breathing working on catching up as his throat could still feel the sand. 

         “Good, can I have my money?”

         “Where’s the reply?” 

         “There was no reply,” the boy uncurled his fist in his pocket and held out his hand. Robin’s ears rang as the boy glanced at his pocket and then back at Robin. Pulling out the shillings from the nearest bag, Robin placed the coins in the boys hands never breaking eye contact. The boy ran down the steps as fast the coins touched his palm, never looking back and that’s when Robin heard it. 

         The trees, the leaves, the shuffling of feet inching closer to him. Keeping his eyes on the trees, watching the leaves, Robin grabbed his bow and all the arrows he could reach. 

         And then it happened.

         The leaves froze, the birds disappeared, the sun got darker and a while surge of guards ran towards the manor. Shutting the door behind him, Robin raced up the second floor. He needed a better vantage point. The steps rushing through the wooden door were hard and quick. From the corner of his eye, Robin saw a rope thrown up outside the window.

         He was surrounded.

         Hiding behind a closet, sucking in a deep breath, he heard the steps stop. Placing the arrow securely on the nock, he pulled back the string and listened to someone inch closer. 

         Before he could surprise them, an arrow went flying by him, barely missing his face. 

         “We know you’re in here!” The guard was loud, just like his step. Giving himself a smirk, Robin leaned away from the wood and turned towards the men, shooting one arrow towards the closest guard. Reloading in the next second, he pulled back the string and struck another in the chest. Then another in the throat. Running towards the two left, he pulled out another arrow and stuffed it in one guard’s chest with his hand while kicking the other. Pulling out the arrow from the guard’s chest, keeping his knee on the other, Robin shot a guard appearing atop the stairs. 

         As the guard fell down, another was able to latch himself to the open window and pull his string, aiming straight for Robin. Watching the guard, Robin saw the arrow flying closer and before he could react the arrow dug through his shoulder and stuck out the other end. Feeling his arm go numb, Robin let out a scream and clutching his bow and shoulder pulled away towards the closet. The blood dripped down to his right hand as he tried to clench his fist. Trying to keep his ragged breath steady, he let go of his shoulder, stared at the next pair of stairs. His training room was upstairs, he’d have more arrows and weapons. 

         Licking his lips and gripping his bow, he picked up a fallen arrow, reloaded, turn to face his opponent and fired. His reloading getting slower and his pace backwards getting faster, he got closer to the stairs. Until another window, another guard, and another arrow came flying towards him in the corner of his eyes. He turned towards him, pulled back his string and fired the guard back down the window. But fast enough than the original arrow that struck his thigh at the same time. 

         Another scream.

         Robin’s knee landing on the floorboards, he dropped his bow and clutched the arrow. Hearing several more feet beating instead his home, he broke the arrow in half and limped upstairs. 

         He felt sand everywhere. His hands weren’t wet with sweat, they were dry. His throat was dry, and his breath felt heavy. His hands shook as he blinked his eyes in and out of Syria. 

         He wasn’t in Syria. 

         This isn’t Syria.

         He knew the wood he was walking on, he knew home. His bloody hand gripping his thigh and his other hand clutching his shoulder he reached the top. 

         Only he wasn’t alone. 

         “Goddamnit!” Robin whispered under his breath as he reached for two arrows, his shoulder aching each time. With shaking hands, he rested them on the nock and sucking in another breath, pulled the string and with a rush towards his opponents, he fired. Dragging his wounded leg, he stormed closer, pulling another arrow, until another window, another guard, another arrow cutting across his cheek as he leaned back—but not fast enough. 

         Another arrow followed right after.

         Then another. 

         Robin fell to his knees, his breathing getting faster, unsteady. His bow out of his fingers, his cheek trickling with blood, he reached for an arrow, marched towards a guard coming in from the broken window. With a yell, he shoved the guard to the wall, shoving the arrow through his throat. Catching a blade thrown up by his foot, Robin stabbed another guard climbing up the window. Gripping the blade, he picked up his bow and aimed the blade at another. Reloading as quickly as he could, he shot through two more guards as he heard more footsteps from the climbing down the window sill and climbing up from the stairs. With arrows flying past him, Robin hid behind a pillar as another arrow dug through his back, another missing him after cutting the corner of his neck, and another slicing through his arm. 

         Arrows flew around him as Robin’s hands shook. His eyes ached with sand and his mouth craved for water. He wanted to reach for his arrows, he wanted to draw in his breath, take a step away from the disappearing pillar and fight his way through the crowd. But he stood there, clutching his neck and his arm. 

         _This isn’t Syria. You’re back home, Rob. You’re in your home._ His voice kept trying to remind him he isn’t in the dust. He can still fight, he’s been through worse. 

         But he body wasn’t moving. His hands weren’t steady. His eyes were blurry. 

         He was scared. 

         _I’m here with you, Robin. Relax your mind, Robin, listen to my voice._ Robin’s mind filled with another voice—a calmer voice. His eyes closed, and he listened to the words again. The dust was trying to settle, and the noise calming down. He gripped his bow tighter and reached for the last arrow—his movements slow. If this is where it ends, he won’t end it without a fight. 

         He stepped forward with his bow pulled tight he aimed, but before he could release an arrow flew close and sliced through his chest, missing his heart. 

         And then everything went dark. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the positive response I've gotten through this. Thank you for reading it and enjoying it. Your support means a lot!

         “Tuck you  _need_ to leave. You’re already pretty low on the sheriff’s list and I can’t be dragged down. Not now.” Tuck stopped mid-sentence gave her look as she slipped off her head gear, letting the curls fall back into place. Placing the helmet around her arm and running her fingers through her hair, quietly she said, “no offence.” 

         They were standing at the edge of the Sheriff’s castle, away from the eyes of the other guards and the public. 

         “It’s fine.” Tuck whispered.

         “Well yeah, but I didn’t have to call you out now.” 

         “Tri.”

         “I get that you’re feeling pretty low about that.” She had a soft smile as she lowered her stake.

         “Tristan.” 

         “Okay, okay, what?"

         “Where is Rob?” 

         “How am I supposed to know?! I’m guarding a door, which you’re not letting me do.” 

         “He was saying something about saving John and I feel like he could have done something.” Tristan’s smile turned stern as she stared back at him, she knew Robin would try to think of some reckless way to storm the mansion, but he wouldn’t do it without her knowing. Biting her lip, she nodded her head and looked straight at Tuck,

         “You go to the manor and I’ll check if I hear anything here. We’ll meet in the market.” She took in a breath. “We’ll take care of him.” Tristan gave Tuck a reassuring smile before sticking the head gear back on her hair—restricting the curls back down. Fixing her uniform, she made her way back to her post. _Don’t do anything stupid, Rob._

_Tristan could feel Robin’s eyes on her as she slid the armour on her arm. With her curls covering half of her face, Robin reached over and pushing the hair back and resting his hand at the edge of her jaw._

_“What?”_

_“I’m glad I came back.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I wanted to give up in Syria. I was with the other crusaders, but it was so…alone. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t know who was waiting anymore or if it was even worth it. But you—" Robin’s eyes outlined every inch of her face before locking eyes with her. “I’m glad I was wrong.” Blinking into a soft smile, Tristan reached for his hand, resting hers on his._

_“You’ve spent enough time alone, Rob of Loxley.” Robin placed his other hand on her other cheek, holding her face. Their eyes never left each other’s, and their breaths mixed as they moved in closer._

Tristan blinked back to the present as a carriage, with the sheriff’s flag drove by her towards the back. Her eyes followed the carriage until it disappeared from her view. 

         The sheriff never stopped his carriage anywhere other than the main gates. 

 

The last thing Robin remembered was dust flying everywhere and arrows crushing wood as they rained around him. He remembered every inch of his body falling apart but he didn’t remember the water. His eyes blinked furiously as the water splashed around him as his mouth tried to suck in a breath. His hair stuck to his face as he was dragged back out by his neck. 

         His clothes felt wet, but he didn’t know if it was because of the water or the blood that had kept dripping down against him. His mouth gasped, trying to swallow as many breaths it could take in. But before he could take another second to see his surroundings, his head was dunked back into the barrel of water as the hand on the back of his head held him down there until his felt like they would burst. His cuts burned, his face ached, he tried screaming. Robin could only see bubbles, until he was pulled back out again and shoved down to his knees. Keeping his head down and coughing out as much water as he could fathom he let out a groan.

         “Ugh, god.” Robin spoke to himself.

         “God won’t save you today.” The sheriff’s voice was loud and commanding. He controlled a room and knew how to keep the attention on himself. His step was swift, and his orders were bolstering, he knew the perfect punishment for every crime and Robin had made it personal.

         Spitting the water out of his mouth, Robin gave the sheriff a smirk.

         “You wasted how many people on one person?”

         “Where’s my money?”

         “What money?”

         “WHERE. IS. MY. MONEY?!” 

         “Isn’t it the people’s money? Or the war’s? How is it yours?” Robin kept his smirk boldly on his injured bloodied face as he stayed kneeled in front of the sheriff who kept moving in closer to him. Peering down at him, the sheriff placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder with his thumb resting on the hole from the arrow and dug in. 

         A piercing scream filled the large dark room as the sheriff kept pressing in.    

         “You little piece of SHIT!” Robin’s breath became ragged and his shoulder became numb as he was forced to stand up. 

         “You’re not going to tell me?” Before Robin could answer, a fist struck his face. His eyes shaking with the speed. His head pounding with the pain. The sheriff kept repeating the question as he landed another punch on Robin’s face, another in his chest, another on his wound again. 

         “Do you know what you’ve done?”

         With his knees giving away, the grip around his arms tightened. Spitting out the blood he laughed. 

         “What did I do?” Rolling his eyes, the sheriff stared at the guards around Robin. 

         “Bring in the water. Drown him.” Wiping his hands, the sheriff moved back as the men guards dragged Robin on his back on the nearest table. Holding his down, another guard secured a rag over his mouth, covering his screams of protest, while another poured down water. Robin’s legs shuffled as he craved for a breath. His yells came out in chokes. 

         Another bucket of water soaked the towel before the sheriff motioned them to stop. The rag came off and Robin gasped for breath. His eyes were red in pain and his throat throwing up water. 

         “Where’s my money, Robin of Loxley?”    

         “W-what…money?”

         “Drown him.” Securing his shoulder back on the table, the rag tightened around his face and another bucket of water soaked through the rag. His gasps became louder as he body became to feel colder. 

         Another bucket.

         One more. 

         “Hang him up.” The rag ripped off, his legs stopped kicking and his body was peeled off the table. His throat felt tight, his body felt like it was going to topple over. The chains rang in his eyes as they got wrapped around his wrists tighter and were pulled up above his head. His shoulder pinching under all the weight of his arms felt more broken. His breaths unsteady, his throat trying to throw up any water that could come out. With the sheriff’s nod, a guard with his armour on threw a punch straight towards his ribs. Robin could feel the bone ripping to shreds as he cried in pain. 

         “Who was that letter to?”

         “What letter?”

         Another punch. Missing the rib.

         “Where’s the money?”

         “What money?”

         Another punch. Robin’s body shook and to bring in more oxygen he coughed out the blood collecting in his throat. 

         “Don’t bloody my floors, Rob.”

         “Heh. Why? You scared of blood?” Robin spit out more blood. “Is that why you never fought in the war?” The sheriff picking up the dull edge of the javelin, shoved up against the wound left by the arrow on his thigh. Failing to contain his scream, Robin’s yell echoed in the room while his cough tried to find any bit of oxygen. 

         “You’re testing my patience.” 

         “Good, then get bored.”

         Handing the javelin to the guard, the sheriff leaned against a wall crossing his arms. His face looked relaxed and as Robin’s eyes followed his movements, his mind raced tried to guess what the sheriff was doing next. As his mind tried to piece the next move, the rod slammed against his chest sending his against the grip of the chains. The wounds that had gone numb came back screaming, reminding him how everything felt broken. He tried to latch onto any sort of breath as he choked on his blood. 

         He was tired. His eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness. 

         And that’s when he saw her.

_They were together in bed, playing with the sunlight spilling inside the broken shutters. Their fingers brushing together. Robin’s forehead had a band aid thanks to the last heist. Her curls stayed messy near her forehead. Her eyes watched their fingers dance in the morning sun as his eyes moved to face her. She had her bottom lip held down with her teeth as she tried to create a synchronized dance with their hands. Feeling his eyes resting on her, she turned towards him, resting her chin on her shoulder and kept her eyes locked with his. They were quiet. They’re fingers entwined. He kissed the back of her hand._

         A fist landed square on his jaw and Robin’s eyes fluttered back into the present. The world felt colder and darker, his legs felt heavy. The wound on his shoulder kept dripping but he couldn’t feel it anymore as the grip of the chains dug deeper in his wrists. 

         “Could you…” Robin spit out more blood. “Lis-listen,” clearing his throat he looked at his assailant. 

         “Could you move away from the face?” Robin’s face turned into a weak smile as he heard the sheriff groan. Motioning the guard to continue, the sheriff kept watching and the guard threw in another punch.

         _Robin’s eyes danced from Tristan’s curls, to her eyes, to her lips registering in the soft smile she kept. Unentangling their hands, he placed his on the tip of her jawline and stroked her cheek as she closed her eyes. A small laugh filled the room as he continued._

_“Your hands are really rough.” She finally spoke._

_“As if yours are any better.” Their voices were quiet as if they didn’t want to wake up the world._

_“Well, I’m working!”_

_“With my enemy.” With her mouth agape, Robin let out a laugh and pulled himself closer and rested their foreheads together. “I don’t mind.” Tristan ran her fingers along Robin’s face, outlining it, moving towards the band aid, and stopping at the other cut that was healing._

_“You’re really reckless.”_

_“Are you worried?”_

A splash of water sent his eyes into a flurry of blinks. 

         “God, how much water do you have?!” His words shook under the chill of the water. Robin’s body shivered as the drops moved down. His eyes blinked slowly as the sheriff slowly went blurry and the beating ensued. 

         _“Of course, I’m worried.” Tristen furrowed her brow as she watched Robin laugh at her comment._

_“Are you worried you won’t be able to fix me at one point?”_

_“I’ll always be able to put you together, Rob.”_

_“Then it’s okay.” Robin closed his eyes and as their breaths entangled, he closed the remaining distance between them as his lips met hers._

I’ll always be able to put you together.

         Robin’s bloodied face turned into a smile as his eyes rested closed. His breathing was slow, and the sheriff motioned the chains to be taken off. Robin’s knees not able to keep him up his body fell to the ground. His mind was calm, his body didn’t shiver, and he couldn’t register any more pain. He was in a good place. 

 

         Tristan was pacing in the marketplace. She had heard whispers in the castle after Tuck left and the carriage disappearing to the back door had her worried. Robin hadn’t tried to show up at her post, nor were there any talk about another Hood heist. Her boots gathered more dust as she continued to pace in a small area back and forth. Something wasn’t right. Her fingers moved back and forth between fixing the collar of her shirt or the cuffs of her sleeve. 

         As people moved past her, she felt more helpless. Everyone had a duty and a destination to reach and she was getting sick to her stomach. It was never like Robin to not show up and not try to convince her to leave her post. It wasn’t like him to knowingly walk past her post and send her wink, knowing well that she would not react. The tensions in Nottingham were skyrocketing ever since John’s capture. Some people were anger that he had the possibility of being the Hood, others were unhappy that he was gone. Getting tired of waiting for Tuck, she turned to make her way to the manor as Tuck appeared from the crowd. 

         His pace was hurried, and his hands were in fists. 

         Tristan could feel her breath catch her in throat.

         “Where were you? Is Robin with you?” Her voice was quick as her eyes darted behind Tuck.

         “I was at the manor.”

         “And?”

         “And I was everywhere else. At the mines, at the church, at the market, in the woods where they trained. I couldn’t find Rob.” Tristan could feel her blood run cold and her body shiver. Her mind raced to the different scenarios it could come up with. He could be out of town—but he wouldn’t leave without her or without telling her. He was hiding—but he would tell her. He could be attending another one of the sheriffs meetings—but again she would know. 

         “There were arrows everywhere in the manor.” For a second her thoughts stopped and her eyes stayed glued on Tuck.

         “What do you mean?” Her voice was a whisper, Tristan could feel the worst jumping out.

         “There was an attack from what I can gather. Big ropes hanging down from the windows, a complete mess of arrows in every corner of the manor.” Tuck took a second. “Dead guards.” Tristan stopped breathing. “Blood.” 

         Sucking in a shallow breath, “and Rob?” Tuck’s head shake sent walking backwards, away from him.

         “Tristen, wait!” Turning away from Tuck and quickening her pace, she ran towards the castle. The carriage kept reappearing in front of her eyes. There was a reason they used the back door, there was a reason they didn’t stop in front of the gates. There was a reason why Robin’s face never made an appearance in her head. Running past the crowds and through the gates of the castle she found herself facing a guard.

         “Where is the sheriff?” Her voice was heavy and her patience low. 

         “What’s it to you?”

         “Where. Is. The. Sheriff.” She could see guards appearing from the doors that lead to the dungeon. 

         “He’s out, meeting the members of the church. Why are you back?”

         “I need to speak to him.”

         “About what?”

         “The Hood.” The guard’s face turned into a smile, almost as if he was taunting her.    

         “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” She could feel herself shake. Tristan had always tried to wonder what would happen if the sheriff found Robin. “You can see him tomorrow.” The guard motioned to the door behind Tristan and letting out a sigh, she walked away towards the door. Stopping as the doors closed behind her she moved towards the back of the castle. 

         She had to make sure. 

         Approaching a window, she took a few steps away from it. Trying to count the distance of the window with the surrounding opens she rubbed her hands and bounced on her feet. Someone could see her and there would be no excuse for her behaviour, or she could climb the windows and check why every second was making her heart sink lower. Taking a quick scan of the area around, she took in a deep breath and charged towards the window jumping to hold onto the ledge and springing herself through the window. Biting her lip, she stayed bent down keeping herself away from peripheral view. 

The jail was another floor down, but she had access to the stairs with no guards around. As a low murmur of voices disappeared she treaded slowly towards the stairs. There shouldn’t be guard at the door to the dungeon—they only had John their last time and the sheriff liked to keep his prisoners as alone as possible in the night. Leaning towards the wall, she peered through the corner for any surprises. The door to the dungeon was shut with no guard around.    

         Her hands shook as she grabbed the handle. She didn’t want to be right. She wanted Robin to be as far as he could be from the castle. She wanted him lost in the woods or in a fight with someone in marketplace instead. Her heart felt heavy as the door creaked open and an uncomfortable darkness warped the room. Before he had caught John, the sheriff kept every single room in this dungeon filled with people suspected as the Hood.

         Will was in here too.

         Hearing her feet splash in water, she stopped moving. He ears listened for any more sounds before she continued. 

         There was a groan. And then a cough. 

         She stood up straight and looked towards the sound. John wasn’t supposed to be here. They had moved him for more questioning. 

         Another groan.

         “Goddamnit.” The voice was quiet, but she knew. Picking up her step, she sprinted towards the sound and her heart gave away as she knelt down and her eyes filled up.

         “Robin!” She didn’t want to cry. She wasn’t supposed to cry and she even bit her lip to keep herself from falling apart. Robin was barely sitting up, his wrist were red, ripped. His one eye was barely open and swollen, his lips were cut. His face bloodied so much she didn’t know where the cuts started. His jacket glistened with the blood that covered it. His arm was resting of his lap with his hand bloodied from the drops that made their way down from his shoulder. Robin kept his thigh covered with his hand as if he was holding back losing more blood. 

         She didn’t know where to touch him. 

         His eyes barely blinked as his mouth turned into a weak smile.

         “Ti.” Robin let out a short chuckle. “You made it.” His chuckle turned into a cough and she reached through the bars and rested her hands against his bruised cheeks. He finally closed his eyes and she could feel him sigh in content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tristan is the original character but she is based on Tiger, spidye (whose work you should definitely give a read cause its incredible). 
> 
> More chapters coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support! We're going strong!   
> Can't say the same about Robin though.

    Her plan was simple. She was going to find the sheriff’s keys and break Robin out. And if she couldn’t find the keys, she knew the perfect way to cut him out. The only problem was dragging him out quick enough that no one would see them. As the jail got lighter, Robin stirred in his sleep—or his two minute break from his terrors.  

    Robin shook the entire night. His breathing would always speed up the moment he closed his eyes and he would gasp for breath as if he just floated out from the water. His eyes were stuck on Tristan every time he jumped as he tried closing his eyes. Robin held onto her hand as if it was the only thing giving him life. Tristan had tried really hard to not fall asleep but whenever she saw him trying to close his eyes she followed suit and at one point she fell heavy into sleep. So when he felt her opening her eyes he pretended to sleep.  

    Tristan’s head was already filling up a plan the moment her eyes opened. She’d bring Tuck with her and she’ll sling Robin on her back if needed be but she was not letting him stay another night in the dungeon.  

     “What are you thinking?” Robin’s eyes scanned her expressions.  

     “I’m going to get you out. The sheriff would never come down here before early morning meetings and he keeps his eyes on another guard. But if I am able to get to the weapons I can get you out without the keys.”  

     “I can barely move.” 

     “It’s okay, I got you.” Robin let out a chuckle which turned into a cough. Tristan’s soft expression turned into worry as she watched him heave his chest and clear his throat. “You’re not staying here another minute.” She cupped his face in her hands and looked at him directly as if she tried to convince him. Robin was reaching towards her, pulling her for another kiss when they heard the door squeak open. 

     “Get out of here.”  

     “I’m coming back, Robin.” 

     “Go!” His voice had gotten stern and dry causing himself to go into another coughing fit and he leaned over, held his head in his hands and gasped for more breaths. Watching him trying to be better made her heart sink. She could feel her feet pulling away from him even though she wanted to run over and hold him. Taking one more look back she saw the guards approaching as Robin continued to keep his head down. The dull end of their spears poked through the bars and struck against his shoulder resulting in Robin filling the room with his screams.     

    Biting her lip and pushing her tears back, she turned away and dragged herself to the warmth of the sun.  

 

    As the echoes of his yell quieted down in the rooms, the sheriff appeared. His face glowed with joy as he continued to stare down at Robin. In all this time Robin had not spared the sheriff one drop of tear or one scream for mercy. Robin took it and he was going to be keep taking it if it meant that he oould help the town and somehow bring the war to an end. He had made up his mind that there was no reason for him to lose hope—he was fighting a good fight. The town would be on his side.  

    Robin continued to stare down at the ground and counted his breaths to numb down his pain. He blinked several times to keep himself in the present and as he kept his gaze away, a splatter of icy cold water splashed against him hitting against every bruise and cut that covered his body. His gasps became shallow and his eyes closed with exhaustion.  

     “Pick him up. The town could use a good showing.” The keys jingled as the guard opened the gate and two guards shuffled him to his feet as he groaned in objection. Robin almost fell over when the pulled him up to his feet as his knees gave out. The more they tugged under his arms the more his legs felt unsteady. The secured their arms around his arms, stood up straight and instead of trying to make him walk dragged him out the dungeon and up the stairs.  

    The sheriff kept his mouth covered under his hand—the show was about to begin. 

 

    Tristan’s feet picked up speed as she ran towards Tuck’s home. The townsfolk were already busy opening their shops and working their way towards the mills and enjoying the chilly morning. Her flattened hair sprung back to life as she picked up her feet and to keep her focused on her goal she kept pushing back her hair as if it kept covering her eyes.  

    She wanted to cry. She could still feel Robin’s rough hands against her, his slow but desperate kiss. His hair that she would always run her fingers through was stiff and his battered face kept flashing in front of her eyes. Leaning her hand against a wooden pole, she stopped and gasped for breath. Tristan’s mind kept racing back to when Robin was training with John or when he would come home with the heist money and comparing it to how he was the night before. Her eyes stung and she felt useless that she couldn’t take him away before it got that bad.  

    There were whispers around her. People had stopped what they were doing and beginning to pick up their speed towards the castle. Pulling her strength back, Tristan stared at the townsfolk sharing the same gossip to each other in hushed tones and running towards a different direction forgetting about their work. Ignoring them, Tristan wiped her eyes and made her way towards Tuck again. As she continued the opposite direction her gaze kept following everyone as they hurried away.  

    Something didn’t feel right. 

    There has never been an announcement so early before.  

    The sheriff is always in meetings at this time. There was no reason for the town to abandon their work and rush towards the castle.  

    As her eyes followed the individuals, her body ran into someone else. 

     “Tri!” Tuck’s voice was a blessing in the mess of the whispers and tones that surrounded her. 

     “Tuck, I was coming to you. I have news for you!”  

     “I have news for you too.” His voice was not as excited as hers but they still spoke at the same time. 

     “I found Rob!”//“They found the Hood.” She stared at him, eyes wide open, mouth agape. Tuck stared back at her, frozen. When he heard the news he didn’t think it could possibly be Robin. But his mind geared together the pieces as he saw her face fall and her body stuck and he knew.  

     “Where…where did you…Where is Robin?” Tuck’s voice was in a low whisper, almost scared that someone in the boisterous crowd. Tristan didn’t reply.  

     “Tri. Where is Robin?” He held her arms and saw her breaths quicken as her eyes glanced side to side. Her skin had almost gone cold. 

     “Tristan!” She finally looked up at him, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth. 

     “He’s in danger.” Tristan’s voice was faint but as she finished her sentence she felt Tuck take a hold of her wrist and drag her in the direction of the crowd.  

 

    Robin’s wrists were wrapped with metal cuffs and pulled up against the poles that stood around him. His feet didn’t touch the ground properly as he knees kept aching to hit the down instead. He could feel the wounds in his shoulders open again as the blood trickled down his chest and being soaked in his clothes.  

    The black mask covered his face but he could hear the rush of the townsfolk towards the stage. His lip quivered as he barely stood there unsure of the next time. He didn’t want to be scared but he didn’t want to be in pain anymore and he wanted to sleep. All Robin wanted to do was close his eyes and rest without any thoughts of losing is breath in water or being beaten. He just wanted to go home, curl up next to Tristan, give her a kiss, and watch the sunset with her. With a shaky gasp he sucked back his tears and bit his lip because no matter what was happening next he was not going to let the sheriff see his pain.  

    But, he wanted to break. He wanted to hold Tristan’s hand again and hold her face in his hands and lose all sense of time in her eyes. Robin was tired.  

     “Gather round, everyone.” The sheriff’s voice rang through his body as blinked himself back awake. Calming his breath, he listened. The whispers quieted down as the entire crowd glanced from the body that hung from the wooden poles in front of him.  

     “For once,” the sheriff’s voice sounded pleasant, excited almost and Robin clenched his fists, “I have some good news to spread.” 

    Tristan could feel herself being shoved between people but her eyes were frozen to the ground.  

     “We’ve been terrorized by a thief as of late. When he should be helping our war, he is stealing from us. Stealing from you.” The sheriff kept his gaze moving from person to person, letting them all understand they have been robbed. 

     “You thought he was one of you, because he gave back to you. But did he give you everything? How can you trust him when you haven’t even seen him? What if he isn’t one of you but something else from the other side? Or just someone trying to rise above you? How can you trust that being you haven’t seen?” The murmurs continued through the crowds. Some rolled their eyes and others nodded along his words.  

     “But today, on this good morning, I have the chance to finally show you the man who is not stealing for you, but from you, for himself.”  

    The light was bright and went straight into Robin’s eyes when the mask came off his face. The gasps rang through the crowd as they saw the injuries but also his identity. Robin kept his gaze down and continued counting away the pain.  

     “Rob of Loxley. The man in the manor.” The sheriff paced around him and kept his voice sharp and loud. “The man from the war, the one who lost everything.” He turned to the crowd, “or did he?” 

    Tuck pulled Tristan next to him as the sheriff continued talking. She couldn’t pull her to look in Robin’s direction but Tuck’s gasp forced her to raise her eyes towards Robin who hung by his hands in front of her. She could feel her body shake and heart threaten to jump out of its place.  

     “He may served the effort but coming back what did he want? He didn’t want to help us, or you. He wanted you to keep working, making and giving the money while he would just, “ the sheriff pulled his face close to Robin’s as he grabbed a handful of his hair, “while you just kept it for yourself, right?” Robin squinted in pain but said nothing.      

     “You give me your money and I use it to help our army. He,” the sheriff, again, shifted his gaze from the listeners to Robin, tightening his grip, “and he took from us. From you.”  

    Tristan felt like she would throw up as she watched Robin’s face twist as the sheriff’s grip got tighter and then she heard the voice around her. The whispers were faint at first but then engulfed her. 

     “Of course, it was him.” A voice said. 

     “He was only helping himself.” A man whispered. 

     “The rich never care about us.” 

     “He stole our money and kept all of it.” 

     “He gave us petty money." 

     “He’s a coward.” Another voice spoke.  

    More voices continued and Tristan turned her hands into fists as she heard every little compliant against Robin. 

     “He needs to pay for his crimes.” The crowd screamed and Tristan could see a betrayed smile on Robins, they both knew something was coming. A loud crack of the whip overpowered the crowd’s noise and fell from the sheriff’s hand. A guard made sure to rip through Robin’s shirt at the back as the sheriff moved into position. All the blood drained from Tristan’s body as she watched the whip rise into the sky and clash against Robin’s bare back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thank you to spidye for literally boosting me up to write more. Read their work, its incredible. 
> 
> More chapters are in the works, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I ended up going on a hiatus after getting sick and busy with work. I wasn't able to update my future chapters but I couldn't wait to post one of my favourite parts of the story so far!   
> Do me a favour and keep Assassin's Creed in your minds.

          “A hundred whips,” the sheriff plunged the whip against Robin’s back as he shook against its contact, “fit for a thief!”

         The sheriff pulled back the whip and ripped through the air hitting it against Robin’s back again. Robin kept his gaze down and shook with every hit. His body moved against the whip as the metal cuffs shook as he shivered. Tristan could see Robin’s hands clench into fists when the whip would chop through the air and then unclench once the whip slaps against his back. Robin’s gasps echoed in Tristan’s ears as she continued to watch him barely find strength to stand up straight. 

         “When someone steals from us, they,” the sheriff cracked the whip against Robin’s bruising back, “they have to pay.” The sheriff looked at the crowd and watched as some heads nodded in support. Tristan tightened her fist as she watched the townsfolk continue to watch Robin get beaten.  

        Another hit and Robin shook against its impact and tightened his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to complain until the sheriff got tired. His breath was hitched to his throat and kept pushing his tears back. Robin’s body shook with every strike and every single wound that had stopped bleeding, opened and dripped against his body slowly touching the wooden floor.  

_Keep your breath slow, Rob. Whenever you can’t find yourself, close your eyes and find me._ Robin loud gasps slowed down as his mind went to that night when he walked into the manor with half an arrow in his thigh and a cut on his arm. Tristan stared at him as he stood in front of her scratching the back of his head.  

_“One day I’m going to stuff an arrow through you myself, I told you to be careful.” She put him down on the chair closest to them as she began to look closely to his injuries._

_“Sorry, Ti.”_

_“At this point, you’re not even sorry.” Her eyes were glued to his wounds as she shook her head and Robin watched as the orange sunset rested against her jawline. The light brightened the browns and the faint reds in her curls. Her brows pushed together as her fingers worked through his jacket and shirt._

     The lash shook through his body, making Robin shiver. His feet scrambled to find proper footing but he’s lose his balance making his wrist lock against the metal lock. The cuts burned through his skin but he was still cold and he was alone. His mind couldn’t understand why the only sound he could hear was the lash. As another sound of the whip ripped through the air, his mind slipped back.  

_“If you wanted my shirt off, you could have just asked you know.” Stopping her hands, she turned her gaze up to him with a smirk playing on her lips. Not breaking eye contact, her fingers pressed against his cut on his shoulder and he let out a gasp as his eyes widened._

_“Hey!"_

_“Don’t try to be a smart ass with me, you idiot.” She began cleaning his cut and he kept his eyes on her watching how her eyes darted side to side, following the injury. He watched how she bit down on her lip to continue concentrating. With his free arm he reached for her face and rested his palm against her cheek._

_“Rob, I’m concentrating.”_

_“And I’m concentrating on you,” she sent a glance towards him, “it helps with the pain!” Letting out a chuckle she continued her work on his arm but he pulled her to face him. Robin pulled himself closer to her while pulling her towards him. They both closed their eyes as they leaned in._

     Robin let out a loud gasp and continued searching for air. His mouth had gone dry and his throat kept building up a scream that he wasn’t letting out. Letting out a cough, Robin tried to stretch his back but feeling the bruises and cuts pinch him he took in a breath and balanced his footing. He wasn’t going to crumple.  

        Balancing one foot and moving to the foot, Robin straightened his legs and back and finally looked up. His hair stuck to the sweat and blood on his face and his eyes finally met the townsfolk. A quiet gasp followed through the crowd as they finally locked eyes with his. Some started crying and others glared at him even more. Tristan felt the ground under her disappear as she saw his eyes narrow and tired. He was waiting for his town to say something but he was also breaking.  

         “Tristan, don’t.” Tuck held Tristan’s wrist as she began to move closer to her love. That’s when she realized the tears falling down her eyes. The man she loves was crumbling in front of her and she was just watching.  

        Another lash and Robin’s body let out a loud gasp as he tried to regain his foot again. Another lash. His hands gripped into fists. Dust began to gather around him but he continued to maintain eye contact with his people.  

        If this was how it was going to end, he knew he would land back in Syria. Robin just wished to see Tristan before the dust covered everything. Tristan’s turned in Tuck’s grip as her tears spilled faster.  

         “Tristan.” Tuck’s voice was soft. 

         “I have to do something!” 

         “Tristan, if you get caught, no one can help him then.” Her throat let out a sob as the whip ran through the air and landed against Robin’s back and his entire body shivered against the impact.  

         “Tuck, he’s…Tuck, if I don’t he’d…” Tuck knew what she wanted to say but they both stared at each other—pain and sadness staring back at each other. 

         “The sheriff can’t win this, Tuck.”     

         “And we can’t lose you, Tristan. We can and will save him.”     

        A loud grunt followed the whip and Tristan could feel her knees give out. She glanced at every nearby balcony and scanned the area. She knew where the guards were posted and she knew just how much she needed to surprise them.  

         “Tuck I can’t keep watching him break Robin. I can’t just keep letting Robin break.”    

         “Tristan, you are his hope and—“     

         “I don’t care, Tuck! I promised him and I am not about to watch him become an example for a town that doesn’t care about him. He’s laying his life down for them and they’re just watching!” As another whip slapped Robin’s back Tristan felt her shoulders lock up. Her free hand wiped away her tears as she waited for Tuck to let her go. Hearing another shiver echo from Robin, Tristan tightened her arm and pulled her wrist away from Tuck. 

        Robin could feel himself break away from the pain. His back felt warm, his wrists stopped aching and his wounds must have realized that he couldn’t possibly have more blood to spill. His breaths were shallow and his lungs continued to strangle him. As his limbs went numb, he began to search the crowd only until the whipped lashed against him and his tightened towards the darkness. Robin’s hands didn’t clench into fists anymore, he couldn’t feel them anymore.  

         “No one can steal from us!” The sheriff grunted as he twisted the whip against Robin’s back who continued to lose his footing and sink deeper to his knees.  

        Tristan shoved through the crowd, keeping her head down and away from the afraid and angry faces. As she continued to pull herself through the townsfolk she’d hear more about Taron and she could feel her nails sink into her palms. Moving away from the courtyard, Tristan stood beside a pillar and scanned her surroundings. A guard was standing near the closest set of stairs, two paced upstairs and knowing the sheriff she knew there would be at least another two more on top of her. There were at least five guards at the platform where the sheriff continued breaking Robin. Every single whip that continued made her flinch just as much Robin did.  

        Shuffling closer to the staircase, she reached in her boot and pulled out a small knife. Tristan leaned her back against the wooden wall and gripped the knife and waited for the guard to begin pacing. She listened for him to move away from front and into the darkness of the staircase. Pulling the knife higher to her shoulder, Tristan turned towards the guard slamming him against the wall, covering his mouth, and slicing his throat. Letting him fall from his grip, she took his coat, fixed her scarf over her mouth and pulled her arms through his coat pulling the hood over her head. She grabbed his bow with the set of arrows and rushed upstairs. Her steps silenced as she reached the top and saw the guards pacing around the floor.  

        There were three across the courtyard and four in front of her. Tristan tugged at her sleeves and looped a ring from her wrist bracers through her pinky and pulled the bow over her shoulder. Leaning against a wall, standing in the dark, she waited for a guard to come closer to the opening. As a guard paced closer to her, she reached for his throat from the back and tugged on her pinky and flicked her wrist. Revealing a knife from the brace she shoved it through the guard’s back as his yell stayed muted against her hand. Slamming his head against the wall, she shoved him down the stairs and crouched down to wait.  

        Keeping her eyes on the guards across the courtyard and keeping Robin’s groans away from her eyes, she loaded the bow, tugged at the string, and aimed for the guard. The arrow tore through his throat and knocked him down to the ground as his withered around him. Two guards rushed towards him as Tristan ran out from the darkness, shooting at another guard and sending the arrow through his head gear. Dropping the bow, she turned towards the two guards charging towards her. Marching towards them, one gripped his sword and cut towards her as she leaned back gripping his wrist in her left hand and twisted herself under his arm crashing her back against his chest.  

         Slamming her right elbow into his face and as he straggled back she untwisted herself, exchanged her grip to continue grasping the guard’s hold on the sword she tugged on her pinky revealing her blade and cut through the other heart after slicing at his throat. Letting go of the first guard’s wrist, she pulled away his sword and stabbed it through him. Ducking under a fire of arrows, she shuffled closer to them as they moved closer to her. Using her blades she cut against their legs and pulled out a spare arrow and shoved it through a guard’s leg while tucking at the other guard’s legs pushing him down. She pulled out the arrow and shoved it through his throat. As the guard fell down she pulled herself onto the guard on the group, reached her arm back, sliced through the air and sent the hidden blade through his heart. Keeping her blade in his chest, she calmed her breath and listened.  

        The whipping had continued. The sheriff’s yelling continued. The townsfolk kept watching. Tugging the blades back into position she picked the bow, loaded it with an arrow against the string and took a breath. She could aim for the sheriff and end everything right there. She closed one eye and focused on the sheriff and watched him closely slam his whip against Robin’s back who instead of falling to his knees, hung there without any help from his legs. As her eyes locked on Robin’s injuries her hand let go of the arrow and it sliced through the wind and landed against a guard’s neck, spilling blood like a waterfall. All eyes rushed towards her and she continued to reload as the guards scrambled to use their weapons she knocked two arrows through two more arrows. Pulling herself on the ledge, she reloaded the bow and jumped down as the arrow left her hands.  

        The impact with the ground made her lose her grip of the bow. Guards charged their way towards her and after tugging her at hood she tugged at her blades and kicked a guard back as he got closer. Another approached her, she spun her arms spread out, running the blade against his chest and as the first one reeled back from the kick holding a knife towards her, she deflected it with her left arm, spinning on her heel and cutting his neck with her right. Propelling her heel back towards the other guard, Tristan again runs her left blade against his chest only to slice the left in one guard’s chest and the right the others. She keeps the blades in their chest only to twist her wrists and pull it out slowly.  

        Loud gasps and screams filled the courtyard as she stared at them under her hood. Robin’s eyes wandered to look up at who jumped down. He could only reach the blades and his lips curled up in a smile. He knew those.  

        As Tristan moved to pick up the spear from one of the guards, the whip curled back and cut through Tristan’s cheek. Letting out a scream, her hand reached up to her face feeling the cut and dampness of the fabric. Her cheek stung as her eye kept closed and she stood up straight to face the sheriff standing tall with his whip.  

        Footsteps run up the platform but Tristan, never breaking the sheriff’s gaze, crept closer towards him as he hit his back against the pillar that was holding up Robin. Pulling up the spear, she shoved it through the sheriff’s shoulder and his scream broke out through the entire town. The footsteps neared her and she shoved her left blade through their chest and spun her right blade cutting through the guard’s throat.  

        Tristan pushed the spear deeper in the sheriff’s shoulder who screamed and gasped for breath. His hand finally let go of the whip and she brought her blade closer to his throat and narrowed their gaze. Her eyes burned through his as she kept pressing through the spear. 

         “We have to go!” Tuck’s voice screamed at her. Tristan reached for the sheriff’s keys and threw them towards him and he began to unchain Robin’s wrists. As one fell, his knee also almost rested against the floor. Everything  hurt again for Robin. The cuts and bruises on his back began to register in his head, the bruises around his wrist burned but he kept a soft, weak smile on his lips.  

         “You’ll pay for this.” The sheriff whispered through his closed teeth. 

         “And you’re going to pay for this,” Tristan whispered. She brought her blade close to his cheek and keeping her speed slow and steady, she sliced a horizontal line through his cheek as he withered under her hold. Reeling her hand back, she went back in under and between the first line creating a vertical line. Her speed took seconds to finish but with every pull of the blade she cut deep and slow.  

        The sheriff was already falling towards his knees if the spear wasn’t holding him up with his eyes welling up with tears. Tristan moved close to the sheriff’s ears and quietly, “remember this.” 

        More guards charged their way towards as she leapt down from the platform, leaving the sheriff hanging from the spear, she pulled one of Robin’s arms around her and ran outside with Tuck. Staying away from the townsfolk and the guards, Tristan kept them hidden through the secret guard back ways, inching them closer to the forest near Robin’s manor. 

         “I knew you’d come.” Robin whispered as they hid against a store back, waiting for the footsteps to recede. His eyes weren’t able to reach her but she saw the soft, happy smile on his hair and tightened her grip around his hand.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stewed on this chapter for so long, fighting is hard!   
> But, let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it might be safe to say the Blood in Water drought has ended.

    Tuck hurried Tristan and Robin into his home. Robin had lost consciousness as they were still scrambling to get away and Tristan was too afraid to wrap her arm around him, scared she would press on his wounds. Tuck had covered Robin with his robe as Tristan kept her hood on even through the back alleys of the town.  

    Tristan unwrapped Robin’s arm that she had wrapped around her neck and laid him down on Tuck’s bed—on his stomach. She didn’t want to look at his wounds, she didn’t want to think about his grunts and gasps that kept echoing in her head. She didn’t want to see his body trying to gain its footing to stand against the sheriff. Watching Robin sleeping she sat next to him and watched his breathing stay calm. Tristan watched him try to sleep last night but his body wouldn’t relax and now his breathing was slow, his eyes didn’t seem to wander under his eyelids and his body didn’t shake. His mind had the tendency to float back to Syria but she was at least able to remind him that the violence was too far from home. 

    But now, it was different.  

    Never breaking her eyes from him, Tristan reached over and stroked his hair. Robin didn’t stay calm for too long. He would get cold and his body would shiver. He wouldn’t stir but his mouth kept opening like he was scared but then closing as if he calmed down. Robin’s mind and body kept going through bouts of restlessness and she kept stroking his hair, reminding him he wasn’t alone—nor would he ever be alone.  

    Feeling his body relax again, she placed a kiss on his hair and tugged on his blanket to wrap him in warmth. She gave him one more look and left his bedside to approach Tuck. Tuck stood at the balcony of his home and looked at the townsfolk returning home from their day.  

    From the early morning to when they finally managed to arrive back to Tuck’s home, the entire day had passed. They had stood listening for footsteps, they stayed covered in rags to hide in plain slight. They marched towards the forest only to make their way back towards the town, away from Robin’s home. It was the walking that tired out Robin. All he wanted was a bed, warm clothes, his jacket, and the love of his life. Tristan was there but Robin had considered just falling asleep in the back streets they were hiding in.  

    “They act as if nothing happened.” Tuck’s voice was tired and angry.  

    “Nothing did happen to them, Tuck.” Tristan patted his shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “As long they are safe, nothing matters.” 

    “They nailed his hoods all over town, Tri! They loved him!” 

    “They loved the idea of him. He can save them, they can’t save him. He should put him life on the line for them, they shouldn’t.” 

    “At least seeing them watching him would remind him to put himself first.” 

    “You know he wouldn’t, Tuck. He’d take all the lashes he has to for the town. Robin’s the people’s hero, whether they like it or not.” Tristan gave him a small smile. Robin wasn’t going to back down on saving the town, even if it costed him his life.  

     _“I let him down. I told him I had his back and I would protect him, but I let him get away.” Robin couldn’t look up at her. They sat together outside his manor on the steps, after his training in the sunset. Tristan had brought him his food and he devoured it quicker than she could ask about his training. She offered him her plate and after taking one look at her, Robin grabbed it and continued eating._

_“Losing him was not your fault, Rob. The war takes a lot of people, and that kid happened to be one of them.”_

_“That’s the point, Ti. He was a kid! He had his whole life in front of him but instead he was sitting watch for me in the middle of a battlefield. I should have just taken him with me.” Tristan could see Robin’s eyes flash with images of the boy tied up, hung up upside down from whatever was left of a building. The boy struggled to get free but all he could do was warn the crusaders of the incoming attack. Robin’s eyes never left the boy, even as he struggled against the others and watching his team fall around him. The boy had kept yelling Robin to run._

_Robin could still hear the echoes in his ears screaming his name, telling him to go to safety. His eyes kept remembering seeing the struggling boy trying to protect the man who promised him he would be there for him._

_Tristan placed her hand on the corner of his jaw and turned his face towards her. His eyes had become red and watery and he could feel his regret bursting open._

_“I can’t even remember his name, Ti! I can’t even tell his family what a good soldier he was! They’ll never know because no one will ever find his body in that rumble. He’s going to lost forever and just because he wanted to save me instead.” Robin’s lower lip quivered as he tried to hold back his tears. His grip around his plate had tightened and with his eyes closed, the tears began streaming down. Lowering his gaze, Robin rested his head against Tristan’s shoulder who wrapped her arms around his back._

_“I promised... I was supposed to keep him safe.” Tristan’s hand stroked through Robin’s hair and rubbed his back. The food fell out of his hand as he wrapped his arms around the curve of her back, pulling her closer to him._

_“I let him down. I let John’s son down.” Robin kept speaking through his tears and kept her bottom lip bit under her teeth to keep herself from crying. She placed a kiss on his hair and he sniffed and pulled away. “But I can’t let the town down.”_

 

Robin’s eyes fluttered open to the darkness. His entire body felt heavy and his lungs felt like they were weighing him down. Blinking his eyes, he tried to clear a pathway for his gaze and understand his surroundings. As he continued blinking he saw the bars again, he saw the other dark cells and the muddy waters. With another blink he was back to a room and instantly he was sent back into his cold, dark, and wet cell. Under his blanket, he turned to his side and let out a scream as his back rested against the mattress. He pulled his arms together to gather as much warmth as he could but with every blink he kept getting transported back and forth. He sucked in a breath and he felt as if he began to choke as his lungs couldn’t expel the breath out of him.  

    Feeling as if the room had begun to close around him, Robin held himself tighter and gripped too hard on his wrists springing the bruised marks back into pain. Robin’s eyes remained shut. 

    Tristan was taking a sip of her water when a loud, painful scream echoed through the entire house.  

    The yell continued as Tristan raced towards the sound. She saw Robin thrashing in the bed as he continued screaming as he tried to stay off his back. His eyes remained shut as he squirmed from something in his dreams.  

    “Robin! Robin, you need to wake up.” Tristan was by his side, watching him try to fight his nightmares. His breath was fast and unsteady as he tried to gain sense of the sounds around him. She reached for his arm and the moment she rested her hand on his shoulder, he jumped away. He forced his eyes open only to see himself have his hands raised in front of him against Tristan, protecting himself. Her eyes stayed locked with his and with shaky breaths he reached closer to her only to crumble in front of her into tears.  

    Tristan pulled herself close to him and he rested his head on her shoulder, trying to latch any bit of air.  

    “I…I-I couldn’t…I couldn’t breath.” Robin whispered and she hushed him quietly as she stroked his back as gingerly as she could.  

    “Shhh…Robin…you're okay. I’m here.” Robin nodded against her shoulder but she could still feel his choke out his tears. His arms wrapped around her and his hands gripped her shirt, holding on it as if his life depended on it.  

    “Every-everything…just..I’m hurt—everything hurts.” Robin tried to choke our words in-between his sobs and she nodded as he spoke.  

    “It wouldn’t end.”  

    “It’s okay, Robin.” 

    “I can’t…” Robin pulled away, letting his hands unfurl from her shirt as he looked at his arms, he choked in another sob, “I can’t feel anything.” Tristan followed his gaze and touched his wrist, only to turn her eyes back to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that you are still reading this and interested in more. Thank you.  
> If you have comments please feel free to let me know, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I have to put a trigger warning, but its a lot about Robin's injuries. Be prepared.

His eyes slowly found hers and she could see the tears welling up. He was scared and he was trying to clutch to anything to make him safer. His bloodied fingers shook as she took hold of them. He was cold and exhausted. His bones were weak. The quiet hum from outside was the only thing that surrounded the room for a minute before Tristan spoke up. 

    “It’s okay, Robin, I promise. You’re all here and it’ll get better.”  

    “It hurt…so much, Ti. I couldn’t breath.” It’s easy for Robin to keep a facade in front of everyone but he still hadn’t gotten over Syria but he was getting better. But, now partnered with the Sheriff’s treatment he was back to how Tristan found him when he was taken off the boat and he had made his way back to the manor. 

 

    “I know, I know, love. I’m here.” Robin nodded as he looked back at his hands and he crumbled back into Tristan’s arms as she held him.  

    Robin didn’t want to close his eyes. The moment he did he was back in the dark cell trying to find a better comfortable position. He’d see himself hanging from his wrists above his head as the fists and bats landed harder against his ribs. He was cold. He was alone. In the next instance, he would feel the lash whip against his skin as his skin would curl against it. Robin could see his skin pull away from him and then he would fall back into Syria with his wounds out in the open under the afternoon sun as he baked in its light.  

    He was afraid of closing his eyes.  

    But then Tristan spoke. 

    “You’re not alone, love.” His lower lip stopped quivering. His grip around her shirt loosened and his breath begun to become steady. His eyes also closed. Tristan was warm. She was something to hold onto, she was caressing him. Robin’s heart stopped threatening to jump into his hands and his mouth gulped down his anxiety as he pulled away. His eyes stayed down as he could feel Tristan’s gaze on her.  

    He let down Tristan. 

    “I’m glad you’re safe, Rob.” She held his hand as she kept her eyes locked on him, softly, taking everything into consideration and trying to understand him. His pain burned throughout his entire body that he didn’t know where it stared and where it could end. Robin sniffed back his tears and kept looking down as if he looking at her would break him even more.  

    “You saved me.” His voice still shaky but soft. He closed his grip around her hand and tugged at her and she leaned her forehead against him. They sat there with their eyes closed, trying to keep the entire day behind them to enjoy each other’s company.  

    “Did you hurt him?” Robin still had his forehead resting against hers and his eyes still closed. 

    “Hmm?” 

    “The sheriff, I keep hearing him scream.” Tristan let out a laugh. 

    “I let the moment get the best of me.” Robin leaned back to look at her, his eyes questioning her laugh. “To be more specific, I branded him.” 

    “Ti!” 

    “He whipped me and cut my cheek open! I had to do something!” Robin’s eyes finally scanned her face and he saw the scabbed cut running down her cheek. His fingers reached for it, lightly giving it a touch as her eye winced shut.  

    “It still hurts. What did you do?” 

    “Cut a T right on his cheek.” Tristan smirked as she remembered the screams the sheriff released as her knife dragged against his cheek. “That mark isn’t going anywhere.” Watching her laugh, Robin let out a chuckle only to end it with a fit of coughs.  

    “We need to get your patched up, love.” As he continued to clear his throat he nodded and Tristan worked on grabbing his hand and helping his stand up. His balanced swayed as he kept falling into her arms and she remembered to keep her hold firm but gentle to not dig into his wounds. She held his hands and walked him over to a wall as he leaned one hand against the firm brick and staggered the path she led him on. She opened a door and led him inside the bathroom. 

    “Tuck must have warmed the water by now.” She kept her face away from him as she neared the tub and stopped moving. Robin held her back. 

    “Wa…water?” Robin’s eyes followed the little waves the water made as Tristan rested her hand against the tub. 

    “Yes, love, we need to clean you up before I can tend to you injuries. There’s more…” she looked at him up and down and quietly continued, “blood than skin.” His eyes followed hers and he finally looked down at his hands that were not only bruised but dried with blood. His shirt was drenched and he could feel his face battered.  

    “I…maybe…” Robin cleared his throat, “how about…later?” 

    “We’re already here and water is warm. You’ll like it.” 

    _Drown him._  His eyes blinked back. He could fill his lungs fill air and water and his nostrils insufficient. His breathing had slowed again.     

    “Rob.” Robin blinked again to see Tristan’s face in front of him. “What’s wrong?” 

    “I just…I don’t need to—need to be in the tub.” 

    “It’ll be very quick and I can get a better look at what is there and how to fix it.” 

    “Ti, I just—“ 

    “Love, what’s wrong?”  

    _Drown him._  The sound kept echoing in his head as he tried to breathe in any air he could find. He felt his hands shake as he felt himself slammed against a table with a rag forced against his face. The water was cold at first and he remembered thinking how quickly the rag was soaked up. He was gagging. He was shivering. His legs wanted to move, his arms flailed as he shook. His hands tried to reach for something. His eyes kept opening and shutting. His throat felt choked and his chest kept expanding. Robin remembered his head wanting to burst and his lungs filling up. He wanted to throw up but the rag stung against even more.  

    Tristan’s touch against his arm brought him back to the bathroom. He shook his head. 

    “I can’t—I can’t do this.”  

    “Rob—“ 

    “Tristan, I can’t.” Tristan stared at him. Robin never had the tendency to change between names.  

    “I’m right here. I promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”  

    “I’m going to **drown**!” Robin sucked in a sob and pulled away from her, treading backwards, away from the water. 

    Tristan watched him lean against the walk and sink down to the floor. His eyes never met hers and his hands were turned into fists as he continued to calm his breath and coax his heart from not jumping out his chest. His lower lip quivered as he shut his eyes when his eyes welled up. Tears fell and he couldn’t find the strength in himself to wipe them away. He made himself smaller as he tried to sniffle away his tears. 

    “I couldn’t breathe,” Robin’s voice was small and shaky, “the water...kept filling my lungs, my throat wouldn’t open, my eyes…my eyes couldn’t blink…I just—“ Robin covered his face with his hands and stayed quiet. Tristan kneeled down in front of his, placing one hand on his knee.  

    “But, you can now. You’re okay now. I’ll be right in there with you.” Her voice was soft and he pulled away his hands and locked eyes with her. 

    “Together?” 

    “Together. You go in the water, I’m right there beside you. No one will hurt you on my watch, Rob.” She rested her hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears, “you are not alone.” He sniffed back more tears and gave her a nod. Holding his hand, she pulled him up and pulled him close to the tub again. He stared at the water and his mind kept going back and forth between drowning or drowning with Tristan.  

    “Love, you need to take off your clothes.” Tristan broke through the silence as he kept standing there trying to understand the water. He looked at her and then at his clothes and back at her. 

    “Can I help?” Looking away from her, he nodded and turned his back towards her. His hands twisted back into fists as he felt her reach for the hem of his shirt. Robin kept his eyes closed as he could feel the fabric lift off his chest and his wounds coming out in the light.  

    “There, just—“ Tristan’s eyes saw every lash, every bruise, and every cut that covered his body. The darkened blood, the rips in his skin covered every inch of him. Her eyes were wide as they followed the followed the lengths of the lashes and the deep colours of the bruises. He rested his chin against the edge of his shoulder almost as if he wanted a peek of his wounds but couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Tristan felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart stop beating. She had heard the lashes and she had seen him shake under the slaps of the whip, she just didn’t estimate the extent of their strength. With a shaking hand, she reached for the cuts of his back. Her hand shook as it neared his back and her fingers tingled as if they weren’t ready to go near the wounds. As her fingers lessened the gap between them and his back and almost settle on his skin, Robin turned around and grabbed her wrist. His eyes looked down at her arm and back at her and sucked in a breath. 

    “…don’t…please.” His eyes never leaving hers as he lowered her arm. 

    “Okay.” Her whisper barely made it out of her mouth as his let go of his wrist. After a few breaths together, Tristan held his hand and motioned him inside the tub, taking the step inside with him. They stood together with both feet on the ground and sat down with the water moving up around them. She sat fully clothed and he carefully placed his hands in the water. The sound of the water made him wince and the feeling of the waves around him sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to jump out and away from it as he felt his throat tighten up and his chest get heavy. Tristan kept her hand on his knee and he kept his eyes locked on her hand as she reached towards him with sponge, washing away the dirt and the blood revealing even more bruises.  

    Her touch was soft but with every scrub he groaned under his breath as he slowly began to feel the wounds. He turned his eyes down to catch a glimpse but Tristan pulled his chin to face her. He didn’t need to see it.  

    “Rob, I’m going to need to see your back.” Robin blinked at her as his mind geared together to help him make a decision. He trusts her, he loves her. He knew these are just injuries that will eventually recover. There was nothing to worry about. But, he also didn’t want anything near them. Every single hit, every lash, every incision of the whip broke him. It had cut through his confidence, through his defence, and through his will. As he stood there of the platform with his shirt torn off and falling away from him, he had felt powerless and vulnerable. Robin just wanted a shirt to cover him and keep him protected. Every cut burned him and he had finally lost that feeling, he didn’t want it back.  

    “I’ll be really quick, I promise. You can tell me when to stop.” Nodding, Robin quietly spun around in the tub and is hunched over his knees. He kept his chin resting on his knees and closed his eyes. Tristan soaked the sponge and pausing at his back as she clenched it in her hand letting the water drip down. She heard him taking in a sharp breath as the water hit his cuts and the darkened blood. Her touch was soft and his hands clenched with every stroke. He closed his eyes and tried to replace the thought of him drowning with this instead.  

    Tristan moved to his hair and washed away all the blood, sweat, and dirt. Keeping her hand soft, she helped him up and wrapped him in a towel, drying him as she helped out of the tub. Her clothes drenched in water and his blood dripped to the ground leaving puddles as she walked away. Pulling out the little items from the cabinets, she sat Robin down and began working on his injuries. Starting from his shoulders, she soaked a cloth in wine and cleaned the wounds again. Robin tried to keep his groans and hisses under his breath as he held onto his towel and kept his mind away from the pain. 

    Covering the puncture wounds, Tristan moved to the cuts and the lacerations. Again, cleaning with the wine, she began her stitching. His hand gripped into a fist as he tried to keep the pain from tingling around him, sending shivers around his entire self. Tristan would keep glancing up at him, reassuring him the pain is only temporary. She placed a bottle in his hand and he kept taking a long chug she would start stitching. 

    “We don’t have to…the back…” Robin spoke as Tristan lowered his towel and followed every little cut again.  

    “We can’t let them be, Rob. They won’t heal. They’ll hurt more later.” 

    “Let them be.” 

    “Rob…” 

    “I was an idiot. I didn’t come back with any injuries from Syria. This is just…” his voice was small, “karma.” Tristan turned to face him and pulled his gaze up to look at her. 

    “Rob of Loxley, you have nothing to pay for. You’ve done nothing other than try to help your town and your people.” 

    “I deserve this.” His voice soft and broken.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do cuts and bruises and whips work? At this point, I wish I had some medical books to give me the basics but hopefully this was somewhat realistic.  
> Thank you for reading! More coming soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I found my way back here.   
> I apologize I have been too busy watching The Flash

    Tristan remembered Robin telling her how much he wants to help his people. His father had taught him to care for the people of Loxley because if they didn't trust him then he didn't deserve the title. When he was preparing to go to war, Robin told her it was because of the people of Loxely. He was willing to put himself on the line so no one else has to. Robin's life was about helping his people. 

    And then he got back from war. 

    And he realized his people needed help from the problems here; not from Syria.  

    He didn't get injured in war as much he did fighting the sheriff for his people. The people who did not stand up for him when he was on his knees, arms caught in shackles, and his back getting ripped from whips. And yet, Robin still thought he deserved it. 

    “How could you ever deserve this?!” 

    “I am supposed to be helping this town, helping them fight against the sheriff and get their life back. I was supposed to protect that boy, I was supposed to be—“ Robin looked down and stared at his hands. Tristan had managed to bandage his hands and his wrists to keep them from getting worse. He remembered his hands from Syria, how they never needed to be bandaged, how he always managed to run away in time before he got hurt. As he moved his fingers he heard every whisper and taunt echo from the courtyard in his mind. He didn’t do enough. He was so focused on his revenge that he forgot who he was doing it for.  

    “I was supposed to be better.” 

    “Robin, love,” Tristan kneeled down to his eye level and cupped his face his again. “The town doesn’t deserve you. You’ve given them your life and they haven’t done anything to prove to you that they deserve your help. You’re the reason they had even a flicker of hope, without you they were doing exactly what they were told. You told them to see otherwise.” 

    “I shouldn’t have gotten caught, I should have done better.” 

    “You’ve done way more than the town deserves, Rob.” 

    “I was going to tell him where the money is.”  

    “Rob, that’s okay!” 

    “I was being a coward.” Robin shut his eyes and saw himself writhing in pain. His gasps and groans were trying to form words and he was preparing his throat to scream out the location of the money if it meant the lashing would stop. The town was ashamed of him. 

    “Rob of Loxely, the man I love, is not a coward. He is, you are,” Tristan pointed a finger at Robin, “you are, a hero. You are a hero for the town. You are a hero for that boy in Syria. You are a hero for me.” She stared at him as he sniffled back his tears and nodded. She leaned her forehead against his as he tried to reign back his tears and lean his face and the crook of her neck as she wrapped her hands around him, resting them on his hair and holding him and reminding him that he isn’t alone.   

 

    The sheriff stared at the piece of metal sitting at the table in front of him. He was wearing a bandage on his cheek that extended over his eye. The cuts still burned through his face every time he looked in the mirror or moved his eyes. He remembered bleeding in front of the town, screaming in pain as he tried to cover his face while ordering his guards to catch Robin. They didn’t catch Robin but he counted every second his face bled into his hands. He counted his breaths and told himself that he would make Robin and everyone supporting him suffer for much longer.  

    “If you don’t mind me asking, Sheriff, this is not your crest then why—“ 

    “You’re right, I do mind you asking. Take your money and be on your way.” The sheriff hated moving his mouth with the bandage sticking to his face. As the artist left the room, the sheriff wrapped his hand around the metal and looked closely at the details. 

    “Sheriff.” The guard spoke up. 

    “What?” 

    “We have searched through Rob of Loxely’s manor and there was no sign of them returning there.” 

    “And?” 

    “The woods had no signs of them either. No footprints, or any other hideouts.” 

    “Who helped him escape?” 

    “We…there wasn’t anything that we could find on who that was, sheriff.” The sheriff turned towards the guard and threw the metal rod towards him.  

    “THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” The guard, standing up, cleared his throat and bowed his head. 

    “Excuse me, Sheriff.” With the sheriff’s breath heavy and his bandage ripping from the corners, he pulled away the bandage and threw it down. His scar had scabbed over as it continued to represent the T forced into his cheekbone.  

    “Wait.” The sheriff called out as the guard neared the door. 

    “Yes, sheriff?” 

    “Round up anyone and everyone related to Rob and this Hood. Break houses if you have to, drag them away from the mines, from the market, from the churches. Fill the prison. There will be one person who stole him away and we will find them. They attacked us, find them, and show them what we are capable of.”  

    With a nod the guard walked away and the sheriff turned his focus outside the balcony behind him. The sun had settled and the stars were shining and every person was illuminated. Touching his scar he stared at the people rushing from one way to another, watched them meet their friends, followed them in their drunken dances and vowed to himself that he would pick through each of them if it meant finding the person responsible for his disfiguration.  

 

    It was the sound outside that woke her. The yelling and the crying had traveled inside the room and bounced against the walls. Tristan’s body was heavy and tight around her joints as she fluttered her eyes open. Robin lay on her lap clutching to the blanket that was wrapped around him. Her hand was resting entangled in his hair and her back was firm against the wood that made Tuck’s home. Robin nestled more under her touch and on her lap as his hands pulled the blanket closer. Letting out a little laugh, Tristan continued a stroke through his hair. As his hands pulled the blanket tighter around his chest, his back began to be exposed to the morning breeze. Tristan reached for his blanket to pull it over his back and saw the blood stains soaked through his clothes.  

    He wasn’t shivering because of the cold.  

    Overtime Tristan had learned the signs of Robin’s body language to understand what kind of dream he could be stuck in. If he was mumbling, he was stuck in middle of a never-ending fight in Syria. If he was shuffling, he was caught and trying to fight back. If he was sweating, he was watching his comrades killed in front of him. 

    If he was shivering, he was scared. 

    And every time he would wake up or jump out of bed, would be because he died.  

    Today he was sweating but also shivering. He shuffling with his sheets and his position as his back continued to bleed. His mind was jumping.  

    Tristan held his arm and continued to stroke his hair as she bent down to whisper to him to help him wake up. 

    “Rob…” her whispers were barely heard against the shouts outside. 

    “Robin.” 

    He kept shifting. 

    ‘Robin, love…” her strokes were soft and gentle against his uncomfortable shaking.  

    “Love, you need to wake up. It’s just a dream.” Robin grunted against her and she kept stroking his hair. 

    “Rob—“ Robin’s eyes pried open and he gasped against his blanket. He reached for Tristan’s hand and gripped her closer to him. He turned against her and wrapped his hands around her waist while burying his face against her stomach. Tristan stroked his hair and back, careful of his injuries and the blood.  

    “It’s okay, love it’s done. It was just a dream.” 

    His gasps slowed down as his heart moved down from his throat and settled calmly back in place. 

    “Just a dream.” Tristan whispered. “You’re safe.” 

    “I…” Robin clutched the back of her shirt as he spoke against her. Slowing his breath he took in gulp. 

    “I…” Not letting go of her shirt, Robin shifted his gaze up to her as she looked down to him, “drowned.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, kinda sweet  
> More coming soon! I promise to actually move the story along

**Author's Note:**

> Finally something different from my usual Marvel stuff. 
> 
> A big thank you to Tiger for literally giving me so much motivation for writing this. This was supposed to be an one off but I'm loving where it is going. Also read their work here at spidye. 
> 
> More coming soon, probably every friday or sunday.


End file.
